Step 1: Admitting that you have a problem.

Following up on the weather note, I had a chat about holiday plans with Marty today. Regular small-talk bullshit I usually avoid and quickly forget. My plan for this “summer” was to stay put, mainly in order to save money for next year’s adventures (six months on the road). This has now changed, I mean the staying put bit – not the part about saving and next year. All this chatter about sunny south finally got the best of me and made me realize that I have another flaw I need to tackle and it’s compulsiveness, although some might call it spontinuity. I’m rather strict in terms of self-esteem so I’ll stick to the former.

Not longer than five minutes after the seemingly unimportant conversation I found myself with a booked flight and a hotel reservation. I’m starting my 2 weeks long holiday season this saturday and looking at the amount of work coming my way in the coming months, I’m pretty sure this August break is my last chance for any holiday until November, at the earliest. It sucks to be indispensable.

Initial plan was to take it easy, catch up on my reading (my personal book queue is now much too long), work on my site, take long walks around the city and maybe, just maybe, cook for myself, for a change. Now it looks that I’ll be doing most of my reading on the plane and late at night in the hotel. And instead of walking around the rainy streets of Dublin, I’ll be acting as one human sunshine receptor roaming the not-so-rainy streets of Barcelona.

This is what you get when you’re constantly on the verge of masturbating when browsing through last minute holiday deals. It only takes one gentle prod for me to ejaculate all over the map – if you don’t mind the metaphore. Hi, my name is Luke and I’m a travel addict.

A post title that has nothing to do with what follows

It has started. I’m now officially having dreams about sunshine. After more than 18 months on this island, I have visions of warm photons coming down from the sky and bombarding my skin until all I can hear is sizzling pigment and all I can smell is burning flesh. I’m actually dreaming about third-degree burns, anything to get away from this grey, depressing and meteorologically constant environment, if only for a moment.

Well, ok – it’s a bit of a hyperbole, but then again, is it? We’re talking Ireland here, supposedly being the “Green Island”, yet still everything seems to have turned grey at the beginning of time around here. And you know what? I’m the insolent, grumpy kind of a foreigner, I will bitch about the weather of someone else’s country every chance I get. Not because I like to, not because it’s justified, it’s just because there’s not much of anything else to bitch about. And to top it off, I bet I’m being amazingly original about it. No – i’m not. I’m actually growing tired of listening to myself talking about the weather, unless it’s my favourite (and lame) joke about it. You know, the one about winter in Ireland being the time of year when it rains horizontally? I crack myself up. Constantly.

See what I did there? This short rant, making up majority of my first post here, provided a handful of facts, such as location, weather and the reality of the author not being Irish (what a great hint, thanks, author!). Plus, I used the word “photons” in a sentence. I have also managed to avoid skin cancer references in the first paragraph, although I have to admit, it was a struggle.

Now, if this is not a great start then I don’t know what is.